Stop Shooting!
by Blynneda
Summary: Parody of "Cease Fire."


Well, hi.  Sorry about the delay.  These things have been taking me a long time to write.  It ain't as easy as it looks, lemme tell ya!  Actually, it's not that it's hard, but it requires me to watch the episode very slowly to go along with the narrative.  Sometimes I'm just not in the mood, or am too busy.  I'll try to catch up, somewhere along the line.  I actually have a couple written that I haven't typed yet.  I'll see about that.

Okay, no one wants to listen to me ramble.  Enjoy the show!

**Stop Shooting!**

_Exciting opening sequence:  Firefight in the CGI landscape!_

Shran:  Report!

Andorian Chick With Large Cleavage:  The Imperial Guard will die at their posts!

Shran:  Even the one guarding the outhouse?

ACWLC:  Yes.  Especially him.  And the enemy (Vulcans) has deployed new units here and here.  (points to map)

Shran:  That's strange.  They'd have to be really tiny, wouldn't they, to fit there?  We could squish them under our fat little alien fingers.

ACWLC:  I meant the corresponding location that the map represents.

Shran (sudden realization):  Oh, _that_.  Maps.  Yeah.  I thought it was strange how they could get inside our HQ shack, anyway.

ACWLC:  We're probably going to die.

Shran:  Not necessarily.  I received a communiqué.  (remember when _that _was the Word of the Day?)  The Vulcans want a cease fire.  I don't know why, but that's why the title of this episode isn't "The Night the Andorians Got Their Antennae Ripped Off and Used For Paintbrushes."

ACWLC:  Don't you know Vulcans lie like Pavlovian dogs?

Shran:  I hadn't heard that.  I thought they were renowned for honesty.  The guards said so in "Shadows of P'Jem."  But there's another option.  A pinkskin.  He's proved to be quite even-handed in dealing with Vulcans.  In other words, he hates them.  His name is…George.  Just kidding, it's Archer, of course.

ACT 1:  A great lapse in everyone's judgment

_Ready Room:_

Archer:  He wants _me_?  That's impossible!

Admiral Forrest:  That's what I thought, too.  But Ambassador Soval was adamant.  You're crucial to the success of the mission.

Archer:  Why do I have to do this diplomatic crap?

Forrest:  It's for our image.  Earth can't just be seen as a bunch of bumbling incompetents who get into random skirmishes, can we?

Archer:  What's this planet called again?

Forrest:  Does it matter?  Nobody's going to remember the name, anyway, especially you.  And you won't be quizzed on it, either.  (sighs)  Fine.  It's Paan Mokar to the Vulcans, Weytahn to the Andorians.  Use whichever one you like.

Archer:  Can I call it PaanTahn?

Forrest:  No.

Archer (twirls around in chair):  How do they expect me to help resolve the conflict?

Forrest:  Damned if I know.  It's the principle that counts.  Maybe they just want you caught in the crossfire.

Archer:  Ooh, there'll be fire?

Forrest:  Jon, this is the first time the Vulcans have come to us for help.  I hope you'll remember that when it comes time to gloat.  You're the closest thing we have to an ambassador out there.

Archer:  That's a scary thought.  We'll go really fast!

Forrest:  Don't pick up an intergalactic speeding ticket.  (ends communication)

Archer:  Shoot.  I wanted to ask him the name of that planet again.

_Captain's Mess:_

Trip:  I don't like runnin' the engines this hard.  The injectors are running at 110 percent.

Archer:  Is that actually possible?

T'Pol:  They are rated for 120.

Trip:  Yeah, and my unnerwear's flame-retardant.  That don't mean I'm gonna light myself on fire to prove it.

T'Pol:  Because then the rest of you would burn to a crisp, leaving your privates soft and tender.

Archer:  Where can I get me a pair o' those?  Boxers or briefs?

Trip:  That's for me to know and T'Pol and Hoshi—and possibly Malcolm—to find out.

Archer:  I've been reading about _pohn farr_ in the Vulcan database.  Not a lot to find out.

T'Pol (warily):  Have you?

Archer:  Class D, about the size of the moon, and that's it.

Trip (incredulously):  _What's_ the size o' the moon?

T'Pol:  Oh, you're talking about the planet.

Trip:  Hey, wait a minnit…Class D is uninhabitable.

T'Pol:  At least until the Andorians altered it to make it inhabitable.

Trip:  Wouldn't that change the classification?

T'Pol:  No.

Archer (as if he's victorious):  See?  (the others look at him strangely)  Just wanted to get involved here.

Trip:  Why ya fightin' over it?

T'Pol:  Well, we like to say…why _not_?  It's really close to Vulcan territory.  I'm surprised you haven't heard of it.

Archer:  It's a military base?

T'Pol (shrugging):  That's what we tell ourselves when we're lying awake nights.

Trip:  What a crock!  I'm just here to doubt everything you say, a la Spock and Bones.

T'Pol:  What would you do if the Klingons decided to set up a colony on Pluto?

Trip (scoffing):  Pluto?  That went flyin' off into space years ago.  Besides, it's not a planet, anyway.  And the other thing is, how are the Klingons suddenly our arch enemies?  We've met five times.  I thought they were _your_ arch enemies.

T'Pol:  When the colonists refused to give up the goat, Vulcan decided to go in and blast them to little strips of blue.

Archer:  What happened to the Andorian colonists?

T'Pol (gleefully, but logically):  We hung them out to dry by their antennae.  The planet's been deserted for nearly a century.  However, we've somehow been fighting the entire time.

Archer:  Wolp, sounds like fun to me!

_New scene:_

Archer:  Captain's Starlog, supplemental:  I wish someone would tell me what day this is, this entry is about twelve episodes long now.  The situation is so tense here, you could go camping for a week in it.  Good thing I'm here to make everything better.

_Ready Room:_

Trip:  If I knew we'd have to wait five minutes for those damn Vulcans, I would've got us here five minutes later!

Soval enters, with nondescript Vulcan and descript Vulcan (T'Pol) in tow.

Archer:  Welcome aboard, Soval.  I don't think I've seen you in person since…the pilot when I yelled at you?  Those were good times.

Soval:  This is SubCommander Nondescript.  Let's get started.  Why do you have friends in the Andorian Imperial Guard?

Archer:  Huh?  But I thought _you_ asked for me!

Soval:  Obviously not.  I'm involved in extremely delicate negotiations here.  I don't consider you an asset.

T'Pol:  That _would_ be an incredible lapse in judgment.

Soval:  An Andorian commander named Shran took over the colony.  We naturally fought back and hurt ourselves.  Shran agreed to negotiate with you as mediator.  For some reason, he finds you trustworthy.

Trip:  So dumb, he don't know _how_ to lie.

Soval:  Perhaps.

Archer:  Shran.  That's cool.  Another recurring guest star.  Maybe we can add him to the ship's roster.

Trip:  I wonder if there _are_ any other Andorians.

Archer (to Soval, adopting cocky, dominating tone):  So, you're asking for my help.

Soval (resigned sigh):  God help me, yes, I am.

Archer:  How long should I rub your nose in it before I agree?

T'Pol:  That's long enough, Captain.

Archer:  Okay!  I'll help!

Soval:  The last time you dealt with the Andorians, a Vulcan intelligence site was compromised and a priceless monastery destroyed.

Archer (considering):  No, that was the time _before_ last.  The last time, we were taken prisoner and…well, I forget exactly.  There were 'splosions.  And I got to be tied up with T'Pol.  That's all I remember.

Soval:  SubCommander Nondescript will accompany you, so learn his name.  He'll tell you what it is.

Archer:  No way, Jose!  I'm not bringing along some weaselly-looking yes-man!  If I have to take a Vulcan, I'ma take one I know I can trust.

Soval:  Who would that be?

Archer:  Uh, T'Pol.  Hell, I was gonna take her anyway.  This is a good excuse.  See, I can't take Travis, cause he's not a pinkskin, and that would confuse the blueskins.  I mean, Andorians.

_Sickbay:_

Archer:  You wanted to see me, Doc?

Phlox:  Yes.  I need to bombard you with radiation and give you profound advice harkening back to my years in the armed forces.  Step in here, please.

Archer:  You're a veteran?  (steps inside)  Wait.  Did you say radiation?

Phlox:  Nothing serious.  Your eyes might glow in the dark, but you won't be able to see that, anyway.  It's quite painful, I assure you.

Archer:  Okay.  What about T'Pol?

Phlox:  I _like_ T'Pol.  How did your meeting with the Vulcans go?

Archer:  I got to be self-indulgent _and_ over-confident.

Phlox:  Ironic, isn't it, that the Vulcans didn't think you were capable of wiping your rears on your own and now your presence is crucial to their interests.

Archer (proudly):  We still can't!  Is that irony?  I can never tell.  Anyway, we're out here to prove ourselves.  Yes, humans _can_ think their way out of a paper bag.  We're not the incompetent morons the Vulcans think we are.  Most of us, anyway.  We're ready to join a larger community.  Like…a Federation of Planets!

Phlox:  Are you finished?

Archer (looks up, as if just noticing he was there):  Maybe.  Why?

Phlox:  Here's some advice:  I served in the Denobulan Infantry as a medic, and if there's anything I learned it's that war is hell!  No, wait, it's unpredictable.  And hell.  Be careful.

Archer:  Careful?  That's my middle name!  (they share a hearty laugh)

_Shuttlepod:_

Archer:  Ruh-roh!  We've lost our sensors _and_ com!

T'Pol:  Did you read the Territorial Compromise?

Archer:  I glanced at it.

T'Pol:  By glance, do you mean you flipped through it like a flip book?

Archer:  It looked like a monkey dancing with a banana.

T'Pol:  So instead you spent the evening watching water polo?

Archer:  Nag, nag, nag!  Readin's hard!  Are you trying to tell me something?  Like, maybe I'm not prepared for this?

T'Pol:  Yes, I am.  I assume you have a strategy.

Archer:  Nope!  That never stopped me before!

_Planetside, in a dark alleyway:_

Archer:  Is this the place?  Let's split up so you can be shot on sight.

Andorian Chick:  Don't move, Vulcan.  What's this?  The pinkskin already has a chick?  There goes _my_ chances.  (covers bosom)  Why did you bring a Vulcan?

Archer:  She's _my_ Vulcan.  Shran's met her.  I thought he'd enjoy seeing her again.

Alien Chick:  O-kay.  Here, put these paper bags over your heads.  Ugly.

Shran:  Hi, Jonny!

Archer:  Are you Shran?  I can't tell; you all look the same!  Just like all the Vulcans!

Shran:  No, actually, _I'm_ Shran.

Archer:  Oh.  I thought my first diplomatic mission would involve sitting at a big table (this one's tiny), getting drunk (where's the Andorian whiskey?), and signing stuff with a bunch o' pens that each contain one drop of ink.

Shran:  The pinkskin sense of humor… (to guards)  Send him back!

ACT 2:  The negotiations fail!  Go home!

_Same place, just seconds later!_

Shran:  Sorry for all the bags over your head and stuff.  You're not _that_ ugly.  But you do look pretty freaky to these guys.  They've never seen a pinkskin.

Random Andorian guard cowers in fear in the corner of the room.

Archer:  That's okay.  You're no rose garden yourself.

Alien Chick:  Bah!  Vulcans are evil!

Shran:  The Vulcans say we're aggressive, illogical.

Archer:  Hey, us too!  Can you believe it?  Maybe we should gang up on them!

Shran:  That's why you're here.  When I encountered you before, you handled the situation without prejudice.  Badly, but without prejudice.

Archer:  That's my middle name!

Shran (confused):  Prejudice?

Archer:  No, careful.  I think.  Where are the hostages?

Alien Chick (perpetually offended):  _Host_ages?  Criminals take hostages.  I assume you're referring to the captives.

Archer:  Yeah, those guys.  The Vulcans want to know they're all right.  Even though they usually just let their hostages die rather than fight for their safe return.

Shran:  Well, let's go see if they're still alive.

Archer:  Hey, look, there they are!  Hi, guys!  I'm your negotiator!

Alien Chick:  They're lucky I didn't rip their ears off with my teeth!  Vulcans suck!  They take antennae and braid them into decorative briefcase handles!

T'Pol:  You provoked this situation by violating sacred Vulcan law!

Andorian Chick:  And _you_ killed all our colonists!

Shran (interrupting):  All right, let's not get into a chick fight here.

Archer (eyeing the women):  I don't know, is there any mud around?  We can settle this whole debate thing right here.

Shran:  As you can see, there is anger on both sides.  Except me, I'm impervious.  Watch out for the chick there, she's perpetually pissed.  Anyway, I'll release the detainees for three things:  withdrawal of all Vulcan troops, rescind the "compromise," and…give us the entire planet.

Archer (thinks for three seconds):  Sounds good to me.  Okay, we're done here.  On to more exciting adventures!

T'Pol:  Captain, we still have half an hour.

Archer:  Oh, right.  (to Shran)  We can't do that.

Andorian Chick:  Ha!  I suspected as much!

Archer:  If all you want is a messenger boy, find someone else.  I've got…_other_ things to do.

Shran:  Like what?

Archer (turns to face camera):  Tune in next week to find out!

Shran:  Then I want to speak to Soval!

Archer:  I'll take the message to him.

Shran:  And I wanna see him here!  In this dark, dank shack!

Archer (looks around):  Oh.  That might be hard.  Okay, try this:  (turns as if he's speaking to T'Pol)  I came down to see about the hostages.  Why don't you release one or two, and I'll get Soval to come.  It'll all work out!

Shran:  One!  We get to keep the others for experiments!

_Enterprise_:

Soval:  No way, Jose!  A trained chimp could negotiate better than you!  An untrained chimp!

(Yes-Vulcan nods enthusiastically)

Archer:  They just want to talk.  They won't kill you.  Although it's a bit scary when you first get there.   It's always nighttime or something there.

Soval:  I'm not going.  Three more Andorian ships are coming.  I'm chicken.

Archer:  Why won't you listen to my advice?!

Soval:  Because you're a stupid human!

Archer (pauses):  Oh.  Good reason.  You claim the Andorians are inflexible.  At least they'll sit down and talk!  The ball's in your pool now.

Soval (bewildered):  What?

T'Pol:  It's a water polo idiom.  He's obsessed.  It means the plomeek is on your table.

_Launch Bay One:_

Trip:  I don't like this.  T'Pol no longer objects to every stupid thing you do, so now I've gotta.  That's Shuttlepod One you're takin'.  Som'un's gonna go wrong.

Archer:  I'll be fine.  I've got my stylin' jacket.  I can pilot a ship.

Trip:  Sure you can…

_The Planet (Won-Ton):_

Shran:  Bring them here as soon as they land.  Don't take them on a tour of our wasteland or anything.  Treat the Vulcan with respect.  But not the human.

Andorian Chick:  Can I say something?

Shran:  Why bother?  You made it clear from the first three seconds of the show what you think.  We'll get our planet:  Archer's involved, so chances are he'll screw up and get Soval killed.

Andorian Chick:  How?  By talking?  I don't like to talk; I like to FIGHT!

Shran:  All right, the act is getting old.  _I'm_ in command.  Dismissed.

Andorian Chick's antennae droop sadly, which looks really cute.

_Shuttlepod One:_

Archer (looking at controls with confusion):  Hmm.  Maybe T'Pol should pilot.  I hope you don't get airsick.

Soval:  Now he tells me.  I need a few moments of silence to prepare.

Shuttlepod:  BAM!!

Archer:  Well, you had to see that coming, right?

T'Pol:  Weapons fire.  I can't pinpoint the source.

Archer:  It's not our ship, is it?  I think I pushed the wrong button.

Soval:  I suggest we cancel our reservations and run home with our tails between our legs.

Archer:  Sounds like a plan.

T'Pol (calmly):  Too late.  We're going to crash.

Soval:  Now look what you've done!

T'Pol:  We need to reduce our speed.

Archer:  That big bumpy gray thing will do it for us.

_Crash  boom  bang!_

ACT 3:  Fall down go boom

_Fire!  Scene of the crash:_

They emerge, phasers blazing.

Archer:  Uh…where are we?

Soval:  The South-East quadrant.  (they look at him strangely)  What?  I looked at the map.  Oh, and I also served here, back in the day.

T'Pol:  You did something in your youth?

Soval:  Yes.  In fact, my past is as mysterious and exciting as yours.

T'Pol:  Wow.

Soval:  If we go that-a-way, we'll find us some Vulcans.

Archer:  That's nice.  We're still looking for the blue guys.

T'Pol:  We are?  I thought we decided not to, right after the violent blast that crashed our ship.

Archer:  I changed my mind.  I gave my word to Shran, and I want it back.

Soval:  Shran just tried to kill us.

Archer:  No, he just tried to kill _you_.  He likes me.  I'm a pinkskin.

Soval:  I'm a pinkskin with pointy ears.

Archer:  Maybe it was somebody else.  We don't know.

Soval:  Are you that naïve?

T'Pol:  He is.

Archer:  I respect Shran at his word, because he's my close personal friend.  He beat me up once.  Plus, we have to get a cease fire.  Remember?  Follow me.

Soval:  Is he always this self-involved?

T'Pol:  Usually more.

Archer:  I kept us on course most of the way in, so we shouldn't be too far away from Shran's coordinates.

Soval:  That's comforting.

_Enterprise:_

Trip:  How would _you_ know?  We can't pick up anything through the inference.

Sub-Commander Nondescript (probably):  Our equipment is more so-FIST-ee-cated.  We found out they crashed, somewhere in the colony.

Trip:  Congratulations.

Nondescript:  We's gonna go find the ambassador.

Reed:  And our officers?

Nondescript:  Who?

Trip:  We want to be involved, since it's our show.  
Nondescript:  No, you'll just screw things up.  We can handle these kind of things.

Trip:  You don't even know where they are!   Is it a good idea to go down there, guns blazing?

Nondescript:  Our response will be appropriate.

Trip:  So that's a yes.

Nondescript:  Talk to you later, chumps.  (signs off)

Trip:  Damn.  I wish T'Pol was here.  She'd know what to do.  Or, oh yeah, the Cap'n.

_Planet, Andorian camp:_

Shran:  You weren't supposed to shoot that ship, I specifically ordered _not_ to!

Andorian Chick:  Yeah, well, we didn't.  Besides, I think you were employing a double negative.

Shran:  So, what, did the Vulcans shoot down their own man?

Andorian Chick:  Come on, that wouldn't happen, it'd make too interesting a story.  You know they can't risk that.

Random Andorian:  Sector 2 reporting, sir.

Shran:  Put your men on alert.  I want Soval and the pinkskin, whatshisaname, you know, my pal, brought to me alive!

Random Andorian:  What about the other Vulcan?

Shran:  That's up to you.

Random Andorian:  Wait.  What if they died in the crash?

Shran:  Then revive their corpses and bring them back here.

Random Andorian (enthusiastically):  Yessir!

Andorian Chick (deviously):  I'll see to it myself.

_Somewhere in the flame-ridden "city":_

Soval:  Shouldn't you stop and ask for directions?

Archer (smugly):  I know what I'm doing.  Maybe you'd like to figure it out.

Soval:  I haven't been here in a hundred years.

Archer:  Some excuse.  If we keep moving this way, we should be--  (shots fired.  They duck down)

Soval:  --killed.

Archer:  They're not shooting at use.

Soval:  Then who _are_ they shooting at?  Rats?

T'Pol:  They must be the Vulcans.

Soval (getting up):  Well, let's go see them.

Archer:  I don't think it's a good idea to run out in the dark in a firefight.

Soval:  Well, what _is_ a good idea?  Wandering around until we find an Andorian soldier and trust he's been informed not to shoot us on sight?

Archer (considering):  Yeah, that was just about my plan.  Stay here.  I'll go wander around for a while.

T'Pol:  Captain!

Archer:  I said, stay here!  They're less likely to shoot at my ears than yours.  (leaves)

T'Pol:  The Vulcans?  I was only going to warn him about the spider behind him.

Archer screams

Soval:  What is their obsession with our ears?

T'Pol:  Pointy ears are cute.

Soval:  Do you realize you're picking up a slight human accent?

T'Pol:  I sound exactly the same as you do.  It's kind of hard not to when I speak English.

Soval:  You were the most promising member of my staff.  That's why I punished you assigning you to the human ship.  Why, if you'd stayed in Frisco, you'd be assistant council by now.

T'Pol:  Ooh, assistant _coun_cil.

Soval:  So why have you stayed with _Enterprise_?

T'Pol:  Because the captain is a bumbling fool who desperately needs my help.

Soval:  Someone else could do that.

T'Pol:  I find the work gratifying.  Also, I'm in love with at least one of my crewmates.

Soval (know-it-all):  That's an e_mot_ional indulgence.  Maybe you should get another assignment.

T'Pol:  Nobody's gonna want me cause I have an incurable disease, remember?

Archer (racing back):  Whoa, daddio!

T'Pol:  Did you make contact?

Archer:  No, they're pulling back.

T'Pol:  Then why are you running?

Archer:  Good question.  Let's go.

_At the crash site:_

Andorian Chick:  Empty.  Just like the captain's head.

Random Evil Andorian:  They'll be going to find the Vulcans.

Andorian Chick:  No.  I know that pinkskin well.  He'll want to find Shran.

REA:  Good.  Let's find him and kill him.

Andorian Chick:  Shh!  You weren't supposed to reveal that yet!

REA:  Oh, sorry.  I thought everybody knew already.

_Enterprise:_

Hoshi:  Commander!

Trip:  You found him?

Hoshi:  I'm not sure.  See this squiggly line?  That's a bio sign.  I'm 97.2% certain it's human.

Trip:  Okay.  So it's the captain.  Where is he?

Hoshi:  I need another hour.

Trip:  Than what the hell are you buggin' me for?  How 'bout the Andorian ships?

Travis:  They just dropped out of warp.

Trip:  Put the ship on Reed Alert…er, whatever you decided to call it.  (annoying sounds start)

_Planet, somewhere:_

More shootin'.

Soval:  Ahh!  I've been shot!

ACT 4:  It's almost over!

T'Pol (surprised):  Those were Andorian weapons.

Archer:  Well, what, is he supposed to get shot by Vulcans?

T'Pol:  Did they change the script again?

Archer:  How is he?

T'Pol:  He's dead, Jim.  Just kidding, I wanted to try that.

Archer (shouts):  Hey!  I've got the Vulcan ambassador here to meet with Shran!!  Right over here!  Bearing 634 Mark 12!

T'Pol:  Was that supposed to help?

Archer (handing phaser to Soval):  Here, take this.  Put yourself out of your misery.  I'm gonna go find them.

Soval:  Without a weapon?

Archer:  Yeah.  I'll use some good ol' fashioned fisticuffs.  That'll work.

Soval:  I haven't fired a weapon in 50 years, since I assassinated one of your Earth presidents.

Archer (shocked):  That was _you_?

Soval:  Er, no.

Archer:  I'll be back.  Probably.  (runs off dramatically.  They don't notice)

Soval:  So, what happens if we take one of them out?

T'Pol:  Good question.  I was wondering what if we accidentally shoot Archer.

Soval:  Accidentally on _purpose_.

Archer slugs one of the Andorians.  No one notices.

Archer:  Hey.

Andorian:  Huh?  (bop!)

_Enterprise:_

Reed:  Everyone's charging weapons.  Including—whoa, including us!

Trip:  Here's an idea:  Let's go right between 'em!

Travis:  It's your funeral, sir.

Reed:  If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you thinking?

Trip:  What Would Archer Do?  It's the dumbest thing I can think of.  We'll either be heroes or toast.

Hoshi (resignedly):  Where's the jelly?

_Planet:_

Archer is crawling around to get Andorian Chick, who hasn't retreated or moved from her position, nor has she noticed that she is short a man.

Archer:  Drop your weapon.  I've never fired one of these before, so I don't know where the trigger is.  Could you show me?

Andorian Chick:  You dumbass.

Archer:  T'Pol, Cease Fire!  (to AC)  You fired on my shuttle, you tried to kill Soval, _and_ screw up the whole peace thingie.  What do you have to say for yourself?

Andorian Chick:  Yah!  A little slow, aren't you?  I'm the militant one.  I like to fight.  For what's _mine_!

Archer:  Yeah, whatever.  Get moving.

Archer trips on his own feet.  Big brawl.  Will Archer get beat up by a chick?  Where is T'Pol?  Shran and his pals show up.

Shran:  Hey, what's going on?

_Enterprise:_

Hoshi:  We're being hailed by the Vulcans…and the Andorians.

Trip:  I'm guessing it ain't Hail to the Chief Engineer.  Put 'em both on…at the same time.  It'll save airtime.

Andorian Captain:  Hi.  You better get back.  We wouldn't want you to get destroyed while we blast each other to bits.

Nondescript:  I agree.  [A/N:  Reminds you of the second presidential debate, don't it?]

Trip:  Hey, at least ya agree on som'un.  Whine, whine.  I'll open fire on any ship that makes an aggressive move.  Including mine.  Phase cannons?

Reed (confidently):  Locked on our main engines, sir.

Nondescript:  This is not a Starfleet matter.

Trip:  It is now.  We found Archer and everything.  Now…  (stands up dramatically)  Drop…your…sword.  Oh, sorry.  Wrong movie.

_Planet:_

Andorian Chick:  He was trying to kill me!

Shran:  You were trying to kill the disloyal officer that I don't like anyway?  Great!

Archer:  Umm…that may or may not be true.  It was all her fault.

T'Pol (arriving with Soval):  Hi.  What'd we miss?

Shran:  This is a betrayal!

Soval:  Commander, it seems you're willing to resolve this through peaceful means.  Do all your officers feel the same way?  (everyone looks around)

Andorian Chick (raises hand):  I don't!

T'Pol:  Maybe some of them actually _want_ a war.

Shran:  Hmm.  Who should I believe?  My people, or all these aliens?

Archer:  I'd believe us, myself.

Shran:  Okay.  Take her to prison for torture.

Andorian Chick:  There are others who feel this way, too.  You'll see.  When they KILL you!

Shran:  See to the ambassador's wounds.  Make them slightly larger.

RA:  Okay, Vulcans have their hearts in the crotch, right?

_Enterprise:_

Reed:  The Vulcans are breaking formation, heading for the planet.  The Andorians are following.

Hoshi:  Hey, we're being hailed!  It's the captain!

Trip:  Thank god!  I thought I was gonna have to make a decision there.

Hoshi:  I just said it's the _captain_.

Trip:  Oh.  Right.

Archer (over com):  Hi.  Everything's okay.  But we'll need a ride back.  Shuttlepod One was destroyed.

Trip:  Destroyed?

Archer:  Well, sort of.  You'll fix it.  Archer out.

_Captain's Starlog, Supplemental:_  So, we started talks with the Andorians.  They've decided that the Andorians get the planet on Monday-Wednesday-Friday, the Vulcans get it Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday, and the humans get it on Sunday, just for fun.

Shran:  The Imperial Council won't be satisfied until Vulcan recognizes our right to Weytahn.

Archer:  Someone—and I'm too lazy to look this up—defined a compromise as a solution that nobody's happy with.  But that's not true—_I'm _happy.  I get free whiskey.

Shran (stands dramatically):  Let us drink to our mutual dissatisfaction.

Soval:  Vulcans don't drink.  We get plastered too easily.  But…we'll do it now.  Just watch out if I start dancing naked on the table.

Shran:  Perhaps I'll join you.

Archer (happily):  Me, too!

Shran:  Let's toast our pal, pinkskin.  Without him, we'd all be dead!

Soval:  Let's continue this on Andoria.

Archer:  Yeah.  But I'll be long gone by then.  Bor-ing!

T'Pol:  With your permission, I'll escort Soval to the airlock.

Archer:  You're going to _kill_ him?  What did _he_ do?

Soval:  Captain.  Your presence here has not been overly meddlesome.

Archer:  Really?  I wouldn't have said that.

Shran:  I think he _likes_ you, pinkskin.

Archer (offended):  Hey!  What's _that_ supposed to mean?

Fin.  (finally!)


End file.
